


Ain't That a Kick in the Head

by WhimperSoldier



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Crossdressing, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Or At Least Pretends To Be, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve is Stephanie Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:44:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimperSoldier/pseuds/WhimperSoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His ma’s dresses were too long so he cracked open the sewing kit, hemming the lines until they turned flattering. The most expensive piece of clothing they owned was Bucky’s mother’s mink coat, a rich fur frock that draped heavily over his shoulders."</p><p>or</p><p>Steve dresses up to visit his soldier boyfriend on V.E. Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uptown Blues

**Author's Note:**

> This is complete trash and I love myself for it. All mistakes are mine because I'm lazy and sad.
> 
> Title from Dean Martin's "Ain't That a Kick in the Head"

The letter was shoved under the door, its uniform print too bland for the news it brought. Steve clutched the paper between his fingers and ignored the tear stains smearing the ink. Two months. Two months and Bucky would be back, safe and sound.

Steve tucked it in the bundle of letters from the warfront, Bucky’s cramped handwriting coloring pages. His latest letter, his first after being released from someplace redacted, was loopy from his enthusiasm. Bucky had to get around censors, and so after waxing poetic about Steve’s ass and missing him, he signed it to his dearest Stephanie, the name Bucky chose so as to not arouse suspicion. Interlaced in the notes were scraps of paper from other members of his unit, wild guys who wondered just what dame could hold James Buchanan Barnes’ attention.

He knew he couldn’t do something like find Bucky straight of the boat, the jerk would do something stupid like kiss him in broad daylight. He bit his lip and glanced over into the vanity mirror, the last trace of his mother in the whole apartment.

Steve sat up tilting his head back and forth a few times. He had a slight frame, but his jaw was too square. A sly smile tilted his lips.

His ma’s dresses were too long so he cracked open the sowing kit, hemming the lines until they turned flattering. The most expensive piece of clothing they owned was Bucky’s mother’s mink coat, a rick fur frock that draped heavily over his shoulders.

Steve watched for coppers before sneaking into the back of a fairy club, their wigs high and their make-up thick. It took an hour of explanation slicked by liquor to get their tongues loose enough to show how they got their faces all done up and another round of drinks for their almost empty tubes of lipstick, leftover blush and off shade powders. 

The wig was pawned off an elderly store owner a few streets down, her skin too wrinkled for the pins and her wallet too thin not to accept Steve’s offer of a newly painted sign. It was blonde, a shade darker than his natural, but fit snugly along his skull with no noticeable lines and curved beautifully in victory curls. The days flew by, Steve practicing how to walk in heels he stuffed with newspaper, the thin soles leaving blisters on his feet that grew into calluses. 

His fingers, delicate at painting, took to liner and lacquer just as easily. His eyebrows, thin as they were, became easily arched with a brush of darker powder and shaped with vaseline. His lips, always pale, lit up with bright red, a thick color Steve mixed with vaseline to give it shine. The second hand powder compact, almost empty and poorly made, had to be mixed with water to make it a bit thicker. His brush was clumpy and old but the cake mascara was enough to make his pale eyes pop.

The stockings had to be bought, the prices exorbitant and almost impossible to pay with Steve’s meager salary. It took two weeks of sweet talking Mrs. King two floors down, spewing bull about his new lady love and her trouble in finding cotton stockings. Mrs. King nodded knowingly, her thin arms shaking when she went to sip from her mug. Her husband had died a few springs ago and left her everything, including enough money for expensive clothing. Mrs. King pressed smooth silk into his palms after he painted her a lovely piece with flowers for above her mantle.

He took Buck’s Gillette to the bathroom and stared in the mirror until he had the courage to raise his arm above his head and look at the small patch of hair. He frowned and picked up the razor. If Bucky did that every few days, Steve could do a few swipes. He frowned and got to work.

Just a week before Bucky was to come in, Steve dolled himself up. The dress was cinched around his waist, a light blue that brought out his eyes. His makeup with thin, casual, the only thing bright about him was his red lips. He ran a hand down his neck and gasped when he grazed his adam’s apple. He groaned before he sported a small case, tucked next to his mother’s dresses he had dragged from the closet.

He pulled out her long string of pearls. Oblong and odd-shaped, they shined in the morning light and when wrapped a few times, climbed up his throat to hide the bottom of his neck. He smiled at his reflection, the shoulder length hair curled tightly about his head. The dress folded under and gave the appearance he wasn’t completely flat and with the heels, made him look taller, petite.

He left the apartment with shaking hands. If someone caught him, at least Bucky wouldn’t be dragged into it. Steve walked slowly along the street, his eyes keeping straight ahead. He noticed the dress he wore was a few years out of fashion, but that he didn’t stand out all that much. A flirt in the shop bought him a bottle of nail polish he was eyeing. His voice was much too deep to do much more than speak in a breathy whisper.

After that, the days blurred together until the day came. He sat up and took his time. Each eye took half an hour and he outlines his lips a few times before applying the lipstick. Everything had to be perfect and by the time Steve threw the mink shawl over the slinky black number, everything was in place. His hair was perfectly coiffed and his lips were a blood red. From the open window some old jazz band was cooning and the toon stuck in Steve’s step all the way through town and even into the harbor area.

Other woman were also dressed up, their hair perfectly pinned and their legs clad in tall heels. He moved slowly through the throngs, making sure he had plenty of room to move and protect his outfit. He palmed his mother’s pearls in worry and watched as over the horizon, like tiny dots, ships appeared.

They moved slowly, hulking masses that almost looked like a vision, their edges were blurring so badly. It was only when they got closer did Steve realize that ship was not blurry but the movement was thousands of men waving their arms over the side, their shirts off and their bodies lanky.

Steve scanned worriedly. He wouldn’t rest until he had Bucky pressed into his arms. No men looked familiar, their pasty skin fading together. It was only when they disembarked did things get crazy. Men and woman crashed together, their cries rising above the scream of the boat’s horns.

He moved through the crowd slowly, picking his way along the edges and pushing his head up as far as it could go, scanning for Bucky. He was shoved out of the mess, his short stature giving him no advantage. A few men lounged against the wall, more soldiers from the look of their outfits and packs thrown at their sides.

Steve marched over, his heels clicking along the pier. When they looked over him, he clicked the toe of his heel against the wood creating an annoying noise that made the middle man, a large fella with a cigarette pressed between thin lips, look up.

It was only after explaining his situation did the boy politely pick him up, placing his bottom on one of his shoulders. His pudgy fingers wrapped his thighs but Steve was busier scanning the constant stream of men off the ships, each exactly the same. 

An hour must have past but the men refused to put him down, now looking out for Bucky too. Steve sighed deeply and the man patted reassuringly on his hip. They had smoked their whole pack and now took turn throwing a dice around. Steve played when he got particularly disheartened but the boys got a kick out of it. Their position must have looked odd and more than a few people stopped to watch for a few seconds.

It was only a flash of rich dark hair but that was all Steve needed. The moment the man, Bucky, looked skyward and smiled, full and bright and his, Steve was waving his arms wildly, screaming shrilly and praying he would recognize him. A few men behind Bucky were shoving him, pointing in Steve’s direction.

For a sickening moment, he thought Bucky might leave, not know who he was, but like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, he broke into a run and Steve practically jumped from his perch, the man wrapping his hands around his thin waist to help him down.

Once firmly placed, Steve took off, his heels clacking noisily on the wood. He threw them off, careful with the wool but gaining those extra seconds that got him crashing into Bucky. He smelled like sun and sweat and the most beautiful things in the world.

Bucky was watching him with wide eyes, his face broken in joy like he couldn’t believe he was there. Steve pulled him in by the tie, pressing their mouths together in a wet kiss. Bucky tangled his fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck and licked at the corner of his mouth, deepening the kiss and growling when Steve pressed a solid finger to his stomach to break it up. They broke apart just as Bucky’s friends ambled up with cat calls and Steve’s boys followed.

Steve wasn’t worried about tomorrow, trying to explain. Today was perfect with the press of lips to his forehead and the whispered words in his ear. Steve leaned up on his tip toes.

“Welcome home, Soldier.”


	2. I Won't Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You act like you haven’t had men fawning over you since you learned to bat those baby blues,” He chuckled, a deep sound that sent warmth down into the pit of Steve’s stomach.
> 
> Or
> 
> Steve needs some polish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble from the same universe.

The longer he walked, the more confident he became. A few men tipped their brims in his direction. Steve dropped his head and touched his hat a few times to make sure it stayed in place. He smiled and continued, clutching his purse close and moving slowly. There was a chill in the air that Steve had not anticipated and so he took shelter in a small store off the road, winding up and down the aisles so as to look like he might buy something. He stopped beside the small setup, brightly hued polishes lined the shelf, their names written in cheary font next to them. Bucky might like something like that-

“See something you like?”

Steve jumped, spinning around and backing up. He stumbled over his heels and just as he was about to tumble into the display, firm hands wrapped around his waist and tugged him back into a solid chest. Steve let out an undignified squeak that came out all too feminine. The pins in his wig dug uncomfortably into his skull but it let him know it was still in place.

He pushed back, stumbling back. He tugged at his dress and his hair, checking everything was in place. He had not planned to talk to anyone and Bucky always said that if it was one thing that made Steve a man, it was his voice. He cleared his throat and straightened his back.

“I was just…” Steve trailed off, glancing over at the colors. It was only when he glanced back did he notice the crisp green of the man’s uniform. “You are a soldier?”

“Sure thing doll, just got back,” He smirked, so painfully similar to Bucky’s, swagger and all. “My luck is already changing, seeing a sweet dame like you.”

“I-You don’t understand, my fiancé. He is coming home too. Why so early?” Steve questioned, he could feel his breathing hit and his pulse skyrocket when that word slipped out. _Fiancé._

“Operation Santa Claus, get all us home by Christmas,” The man was watching Steve with eagle eyes, his gaze following the slight curve of Steve’s lips. “But I see now my Christmas wish was all for naught, fiancé huh?”

Steve laughed, high and bubbly and so unlike himself it made him dizzy. He just nodded, flashing a smile to the man as he nodded his head. He smirked and reached to Steve’s side. Just for a moment, he thought the man might be reaching for his cheek, but it was only when he came away with a rich red nail polish did Steve take another breath.

“You act like you haven’t had men fawning over you since you learned to bat those baby blues,” He chuckled, a deep sound that sent warmth down into the pit of Steve’s stomach. He went to leave and made it only a few feet down the street before yelling started over his shoulder. “Lady! I never got your name!”

“Stephenie!” Steve called, his voice shrill in the cold but from the ruddy color on the man’s cheeks he was a little too caught up to notice. He chucked something and when Steve caught it, the polish was tucked into a small piece of cloth. “Oh no, I can’t take this!”

“I fought for that money, the least I can do is let a woman impress her man,” He smirked, a heartbreaking look. “But if you come to your senses, come ask for Charlie down at the Bistro a ways down the road.”

“Lottsa Charlie’s round here,” Steve snarked, his teeth pressed firmly into his plush bottom lip. “How do I know I gotta good one?”

“Smart dame, are ya?” He laughed, a big belly laugh that made a few woman stop and glance over at the odd pair. “Charlie De Luca. I’ll see you around Stephanie the mystery.”

“Girl’s gotta have some secrets,” Steve smirked and turned away, pocketing the red bottle and smirking all the way back to his apartment.


	3. Gloomy Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Howlies pay Bucky an unplanned visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of this because it is so much fun to write.

The Commandos had listened to their Sarge wax poetic bliss about his gal back home, a dame so beautiful she put the sun in the sky and the moon with the stars. He would get a letter, line after line of neat print along the paper and a loose sheet covered with dainty drawings and views of home.

“What’s the first thing you gonna do when you get stateside?” Morita asked one night when the fire of the HYDRA base had flickered down to embers. Barnes just smiled and shook his head, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Quit these, my girl’s got asthma,” He laughed and blew smoke through his nose, sending the Howlies into laughter.

Later, after his dame figured her boy might have friends, she sent another pictures. I beautiful woman looking like a pinup, a stretch of road just generic enough to remind each of them of home, and little notes talking about their bravery even though Barnes says those are just lies.

Sarge got naughty letters from his gal too, some so dirty he took leave from the fire early to go on watch. The boys teased him for days but his shiteating grin stayed plastered on his face for a week until another letter came, talking about Steph getting sick, then Sarge was put out as all hell.

“You said she kicks these things right off, yeah?” Gabe muttered, cleaning his gun. “She has a hell of a man coming home to her, _Captain America_.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” Barnes snorted, rolling up his bedroll and tossing a glob of mud onto the recently cleaned handgun much to Jones’ groan of displeasure. “She don’t know about that and if I had the choice, she never will.”

“Why, worried she might go blabbing to the neighborhood, Sarge?” Dum Dum chuckled, tipping his hat and smiling wide when Bucky choked on his canned beans, fire-warmed. “She that kinda gal?”

“My Steph wouldn’t go talking to nobody,” He frowned and swirled his beans into a paste. “If anything, she won’t let me live it down. Knowing my Steph, she won’t let the jokes go.”

So when Barnes opened his letter and a drawing of Barnes in a colored suit of red, white, and blue, it was obvious she had seen the propaganda posters plastered from here to the eastern seaboard. Along with the ridiculous outfit, Barnes had a sharp hero’s chin and his corded arms planted firmly on muscled hips. He had a small blonde clutching his leg with one hand pressed to her forehead in a way only a swooning female could, and the other holding a revolver aimed at a nazi drawn in at the corner.

“This is a dime I must meet,” Falsworth muttered, eating bites of his own meal. “After the war, we’ll all come over to your fancy new house and meet this girl of yours.”

And they did.

The war ended and they parted with hugs and smiles, promises to write and new postings to various places and the promise to meet in New York within the year. They sent messages back and forth, Barnes telling them all that while his girl was not up for visitors that they really had to meet his pal Steve. That was why when months pass and others write to the Howlies about spotting Barnes’ bombshell meeting him on the pier, they all make time and trek to Brooklyn and the small apartment Barnes bought after the war with his pension and poster money.

They marched all quiet like up a flight of stairs and to the only door on the second floor. They knocked and waited until they heard the telltale sound of feet across creaking floors. Barnes cracks the door and groans in the most affectionate way possible. He tenses something fierce when they push their way in, calling over his shoulder into the bedroom.

“Steph, remember those assholes I served with, they are here at eight at night, probably wanting food and alcohol,” Sarge muttered, pushing the Howlies into the crowded kitchen and seating them at the crowded table. Dernier muttered in French and then in limited English.

“You kiss your sweetheart with that mouth?” Jones asks while Bucky lit the stove and shoved a pot of tea onto the flames. “Tea?”

“Steph gets colds, it’s good for throats and cheap enough for guests,” Bucky grunts, glancing into the bedroom before pouring out cups and grabbing extra chairs to seat all the Commandos including himself. They men talk about their lives, the nonclassified parts of it, but all fall silent when the bedroom door opens and a little slip of a woman trotted out and made a beeline to the cooling tea on the stove. “How you feelin' doll?”

“Fine, Buck. Who are your friends?” She whispered, her sultry voice cracking, the men all try scraping their jaws off the ground. Sarge’s girl was clothed in only a thin silk robe that fell to the middle of her creamy thighs. She sipped delicately at the chipped mug and raised a delicately arched eyebrow at their blushes and sudden lack of eye contact. “You boys think I’m going to work a full factory shift then come home to doll myself up for inconsiderate soldiers who don’t even call first?”

“No, ma'am,” Morita stuttered, blowing his cheeks out and looking down into his tea. Barnes laughed and pulled his girl down into his lap. Like she owned the place, she kicked her bare feet up onto Dum Dum’s leg leading to choking sound from the man. She eyed the table while the table avoided her eyes.

“So you the boys that protected my Bucky?” She says finally, leaning back into Sarge’s arms sniffing every few seconds. Now that they looked up, they could see the inflamed red of her nose and the slight bags under her eyes. “Guess I gotta thank you.”

“Naw, Sarge saved us all first,” Jones muttered, smiling bright like a puppy. Monty chimed in with more comments until the group was just trying to over-talk the others. The night continued with that, the Commandos telling wild stories that Steph could counter with an ease that only lifelong friends could.

“Well this had been fun,” She chuckled and stood, the robe slipping down her slight shoulder before she yanked up back up and dumped her third cup of tea. She popped Dum Dum’s hat from his head and pressed it to her disheveled curls. “Imma keep this for tonight and you boys can come back for it tomorrow when I’m all dolled up and fit for _polite company_. Do come again soon, Bucky really does miss you and you all must know how pathetic he looks when he’s sad.” She leaned down and patted Bernier's shoulder before sashaying back into the bedroom.

“Damn,” Dum Dum ran a hand across his empty head and let out a chuff. “If you don’t marry her, I just might.”


	4. Lotus Blossom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling a little down about finals. Hope everyone else does better!

Bucky had a habit of watching Steve make himself up. He’d had a long day, the factory tedious but worth it. With the flood of men, all of the women had been shoved back into their homes; Steve had been lucky enough to be kept on seeing as he had the neatest penmanship and could type a good eighty words per minute. The money was a nice lining with Bucky’s salary from Stark Industries and meant that when Steve came home one night to a new dress laid across their bed, he’d only argued for an hour before going to try it on.

His eyes popped under the cake mascara and with a small dab of red, he figured that was good enough for a date. Their new place was in a nice part of town, fancier and a bit more expensive, but most importantly, not a single person knew about Bucky Barnes and his best friend Steve but about that Barnes boy and those Rogers twins that stay with him.

It had been surprisingly simple to convince people his second self was sick, gone seeing a cousin, at the shops, out with Bucky. Steve smirked and clumped his eyelashes. A dash of rouge and he stood, Bucky jumping up to button the back up his crooked spine.

Always the gentleman, he tossed a shawl over his shoulders and linked arms, locking the door behind them. The street was sun warmed from the day but a slight breeze from between the buildings set Steve’s teeth a chattering. Bucky threw an arm over his slim shoulders and whistled a jaunty tune that had Steve laughing.

“What are you so happy about?” Steve asked, tucking his body closer to Bucky’s chest. “You think you might be getting lucky tonight?”

“Naw, my babydoll, she puts out-” Steve elbowed him in the ribs and watched as Bucky choked and then threw his head back, laughing from his stomach. The two woman walking across the street stopped, glancing Bucky’s way until he stopped chuffing and leaned down to press a kiss to Steve’s pursed lips. “You see, my doll, she’s a real lady, got real class and grace ‘sides when she takes those heels off, then she’s just a jumbled mess.”

“She must love you Barnes,” Steve muttered, moving ahead and waiting for Bucky to catch up and throw his arms over his shoulder. “Vulgar and possessive, what a mix.”

“You see, my baby is as nasty as I am,” Bucky hissed into the shell of Steve’s ear, nibbling a bit until Steve pushed him back. “And damn right I’m possessive, my gal, she’s a looker. Misses the looks she gets in those dresses of hers, so someone’s gotta show those guys who she’s with.”

“What about my guy, gets all the ladies a looking his way when he laughs, what do you think I should do?” Steve asked, feeling the shift of Bucky’s voice into the rough timber not appropriate for a mostly empty street. The sign for the restaurant flashed a block down.

“Mark him up,” Bucky heaved, his breathing a little faster and his walking a little less coordinated. “Let those ladies see ‘em creeping out of his shirts and they’ll know. Maybe just press your lipstick to his cheek so everyone he meets knows he’s got a girl back home.”

“Good plan,” Steve spun around, pressing his body firmly to Bucky’s and mashing their lips together in a sloppy kiss. “Now tuck it all in and wait through dinner and a movie, pretty boy.”

“Well now you’re just playin’ with a man, Stevie.” He muttered, leaning in close from a closed mouth peck before opening the door for him and getting them seated at a pretty table shadowed in candle light. Bucky pulled the chair out and when he smiled, it was the brightest thing in the room.

They ordered, mindful of the prices, before chatting quietly over wine and soft music. It was like in those fancy movies they would go see with the beautiful woman that was wooed by the handsome man as they twirled around the dancefloor. It was about halfway through their meal did Steve notice a man lounging along the edges of the room, his eyes never straying from Steve even when twirling couples on the dance floor blocked his view.

“I’m going to use the little mens room and then I’m going to take you for a twirl around the room,” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek before straightening his shirt, older and slightly worn, before shuffling past groups and into a back hallway.

Steve threw down his napkin and marched over. His heels made angry clacking noises on the wood floor and the man smirked, flicking his cap up and smiling all sly like when Steve got close enough.

“I was wondering’ when you would ditch that drag,” The man muttered reaching out like he might have run his fingertips down Steve’s arm. He jerked back and smacked his hand. “Don’t be like that, doll.”

“You keep your grimy fingers to yourself and if I see you so much as look in my direction-”

“You’ll what, sick your boy one me?” He smirked, tilting his head up in a cocky smile. “With eyes like yours, you deserve diamonds. He looks like he can afford rocks and not the sparkly kind.”

“You back off or I’ll slug you myself and if I see you so much as huff in his direction, you won’t be walking home straight,” Steve huffed, swinging around and marching back to their table. He was going to enjoy this meal if it hurts. Bucky walked back out, his tie all proper and his grin a bit too silly to look attractive. Steve smiled anyway. “Some man was asking around for me, said I was pretty enough for diamonds. Told him I would slug ‘em if he got close enough to put them on.”

“What man?” Bucky asked, spinning around like he might be able to spot him in the crowded room but when Steve looked over, the man was gone. “I could've handled him for you. I just watched you paint your nails, no sense you go chipping them.”

“You’re just the perfect gentleman,” Steve smirked, swirling his glass of wine around before sipping it carefully like he’d seen the actresses do. It seemed to work because Bucky’s eyes stayed attached to Steve’s lips. Finished with his food, Steve stood and leaned over to whisper in Bucky’s ear. “That’s why I’m going home with you tonight.”

Steve had him out of the restaurant in seconds.


	5. Zing Went the Strings of My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take a trip out to meet one Agent Peggy Carter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this silly queer story.

It was in the middle of a warm summer that Bucky got a letter from a woman in L.A. Steve asked about it, the letter signed with cherry red lipstick, but Bucky just blushed bright and shook his head, taking the letter into the bedroom to read it alone. Steve could feel anger shimmer low in his gut and turned to make himself a cup of tea. No use giving himself an ulcer. Bucky reemerged a few hours later, a small bag in one hand and the letter in the other.

“Where you think you goin’ hotshot?” Steve asked, the long since cold tea sitting on the table.

“An army buddy needs some help, sent some money and wants me to come out,” Bucky muttered, running a hand through the hair at his nape, his tick when he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Steve huffed and stared out the window, ignoring Bucky’s eyes. Like magic, he crumbled. “Oh baby, don’t be jealous, Peggy, she’s… important?”

“You asking me a question, James Buchanan?” Steve snapped and watched Bucky’s face turn crimson. He always got flustered when Steve called him that. “You want to go visit her, fine.”

“Doll…” Bucky sighed and tugged at his hair a bit more. “You wanna come out to L.A. with me?”

Steve smirked.

It was hot, muggy and sticky and just a tad too bright for Steve’s eyes. On the brightside, Bucky’s Lady Friend sent a small lump of money to spend on clothes and tickets. Steve set aside enough for meals, lodging, and return fare but when Bucky called, she explained that boarding was provided by Stark and food as well and by then, Steve, his wig leaving a trail of sweat dripping down his malformed spine, decided to spend the broad’s money on a new outfit while Bucky was whispering sweet nothings into the train station's phone receiver. He just waved Steve aside when he motioned to the stores right outside the open doors.

It was fairly high class, with shined windows and motionless mannequins in brightly colored outfits Steve could only guess the hues of. It was hard enough finding the right tone of lipstick, let alone the dress colors in the storefronts. A store caught his eye and after browsing the racks, came upon a few options, stopped a prim employee.

“Sorry to bother, what color is this?” The woman raised an eyebrow before smiling. “I’m colorblind and my man just hates the color green.”

“It’s a greenish-yellow,” The woman smiled before tilting her head a bit and crooking her finger to get Steve to follow her down the store to the back wall. “These are a bit newer but I have the perfect thing for your figure.”

She tugged out a few pieces of fabric and Steve touched the thick cotton denim with a small smile. He nodded and picked a few other pieces out, ever mindful of his budget. A few dresses to go with his purchase and as everything was being wrapped and the scarves being folded in paper, Steve caught the flash of color to his right. A teal cat eye pair of glasses sat under a few others and Steve plucked them off and added them to the pile, giving the lady a laugh when she added it to the bags.

Bucky was furious when Steve got back, spewing bull about Steve being missing and how he can’t just up and leave like he’d like to do in Brooklyn.

“I told you where I was going, Bucky,” Steve said, voice tight but monotone. Bucky fell silent and Steve could almost see the gears turning behind that thick skull of his. When his pert mouth dropped open, Steve knew he remembered. “Beside, I have to get out of these dresses or I might die from the heat.”

Steve took the bags into the train station’s bathroom, taking the time to spin around, meet Bucky’s open mouth poised to speak, and shut the door in his smug face. He changed and placed the glasses in his redone curls before zipping the zipper at his hip and straightening the lines around his lower stomach and playing with the billowing blouse around his non existing bosom. The loose shirt was much cooler than the tight-fitting dress. When Steve opened the door and slipped out, Bucky jumped off the bench, finger already pointing accusingly but he stopped, took one look at Steve, and fell silent.

“What’re you wearin’?” Bucky asked, running a hand down the lines of Steve’s new trousers and ignoring the stares they were getting.

“You act like you’ve never seen me in pants before,” Steve laughed, mood lifted by the blatant hunger in Bucky’s eyes. “They’re all the rage out here.”

“I can tell why,” Bucky whistled when Steve turned around and showed the curve of his back. “Little less shapely than the dresses though.”

“Cooler and much easier to walk in, Bucky Barnes,” Steve said snarkily, curling his painted upper lip before plopping his sunglasses onto his nose and grabbing his bags and making their way to the car outside, a smartly dressed man holding a sign with the words “James Barnes” written in clean lines.

It was a quick ride to what Steve learned was the Stark vacation house where one Peggy Carter was a resident along with their pleasant driver Mr. Jarvis and his wife. Steve’s good mood plummeted with each glowing praise the man laid at Peggy Carter’s feet. By the time they pulled into the beautiful yard, Steve was so mad he couldn’t even get up enough enjoyment from the lovely landscape, and that all changed when they exited the car and met the woman walking down the steps.

Peggy Carter was the most beautiful woman Steve had ever seen including Doris Richards from school. She was tall and bright, with smooth hair and looked as if her wits would be as sharp as her smile. Steve thought he might have fallen in love right there if it hadn’t been for Bucky’s tight grip on his bony shoulders. He glanced, almost scandalized at Bucky for not being in love with Ms. Carter because Steve might be from her smirk alone.

“Peggy Carter, lovely to meet you,” Her accent was crisp and lyrical and Steve wanted nothing more than to draw her. Steve walked forward, placing his most charming smile on his lips and shaking her hand. Her nails were a vivid color Steve could guess to be red and he wanted to paint her in nothing but that hue.

Their mission, Bucky’s really, was simple and slightly illegal but seeing as Steve was breaking the law just sitting there, Bucky was more than ready to help. Steve almost bit Bucky’s ear off when they left without him. It took less than a night and when they came back bloody but grinning, both he and Anna, Jarvis’ wife, rushed in with tea and bandages, and in Steve’s case, a mouthful and not so gentle hands when it came to yanking on open wounds. 

The first time he and Peggy talked alone was at two in the morning in a cook’s kitchen the following night.

“For a man, you have wonderful taste in clothing,” Steve jumped so high, his bad heart jumped and his breathing became labored. Peggy seemed just as shocked as him and the almost cruel twist to her lips became worried as she put a pot of water on and made him breath in the steam. “Dear god, does that happen often?”

They made an awkward cup of tea and took it out to Stark’s lovely lounge. Steve could feel his nerves humming and he swore he would go down before he let Bucky fall with him. Just when he opened his mouth to say just that, Peggy laughed.

“I knew that bastard James was lying about his girl back home, but this is almost beyond belief,” Peggy smiled, beautiful and bright before patting the chair next to her. “It really is not fair that you made those shoes look better then me.”

“It’s my ankles,” Steve muttered and smiled slightly when Peggy threw back her head and laughed. “You should see my legs in stockings.”

By the time morning rolled around, they were tittering like old friends and to Bucky, it was like a nightmare, seeing as the two most terrifying people in his life should not be getting along like a house on fire. As they left, Peggy pressed a ruby red kiss to Steve’s cheek and sent a wink to Bucky before waving them off with the promise to come out and visit her again under a less dire situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Peggy Carter more than life itself and we all know she would figure that shit out right away.  
> Also, pants came into use for woman in the early 1940's for factory work but they were just too nice to give up and we all know Steve would jump on that train right away.


	6. St. James Infirmary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all wonderful and beautiful readers. If you haven't caught on yet, the chapter titles are oldies songs that sound pretty with the story if not the chapter.

Bucky couldn’t ask. He loved Steve, red lips and all, but sometimes he spotted a fairy in the dark corners of an alley and all he could feel was a sickening twist of fear that it might be Steve. It all came to a head late one night when they have the second-hand radio placed on crates and a ballgame playing in the background.

Bucky slouched down next to Steve, running calloused hands down smooth arms. He slid down farther and let his eyes slip closed when Steve ran his nails through pomade slicked hair before complaining and pushing Bucky up to grab a warm rag and some olive oil they kept in a small vial from the bakery down the road. While Steve was heating the pot of water, Bucky sat up, watching him from over the back of the couch as his sure hands worked.

“Stevie if I ask you somethin’ promise me you won’t get mad,” Bucky muttered, pressing his chin into his hands when Steve glanced over his shoulder in question. “It’s nothin’ too bad, just know how quick that temper of yours can be.”

“Sure Buck,” Steve snorted and went back to the pot, watching for a boil. “Whatcha wanna ask?”

“Do you wish you were really a dame?” Bucky blurted out, regretting it immediately when Steve’s back tensed and his spoon stopped stirring. He quickly made to stand, stumbling across the floor to press broad palms down Steve’s crooked spine and fix his mistake. “It ain't a bad thing Stevie, I just wanted to know, you know how nosy I can be, don’t be mad.”

Steve sighed and Bucky held his breath until he threw an annoyed look up at him. Steve pulled the pot off the stove and pushed Bucky into one of their dining chairs before splashing the cloth into the warm water and oil and running it across Bucky’s tacky hair.

“I ain’t mad Buck, it’s just that I don’t really know myself,” Steve huffed, refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes. Bucky nodded and hoped Steve would get whatever was tangling him up off his chest. “I don’t feel like a dame, if that's what you’re askin’ but I don’t always like the feel of those boxy shoes. Sometimes a blouse just seems nicer and other times a nice pair of trousers is more appealing.”

“So, it just kinda changes?” Bucky asked, scrunching up his eyebrows and watching the look of concentration on Steve’s face falter. “I’m tryin’ here Stevie.”

“I know Buck,” Steve sighed again, deep enough that Bucky swore he could almost hear his weak lungs rattle. “It’s like… when you put on a new suit, you can feel like a different person. Remember when we moved in here and you started lyin’ to that mother down the hall about our old apartment, you told me it was like being a whole separate person. It’s a bit like that.”

“So Steph is a different person?” Bucky tried again and Steve just scrunched his nose up all cute-like and shook his head. He took step back and planted his hands on his hips. “So not like that?”

“Sorry Buck, it’s like being you, but a different version of you, you followin’?” Steve’s pink lips curled up in frustration and Bucky nodded before snapping the taut line of his suspenders and pasting the most rakish grin on his face. “Don't go flashing that grin at me, still me but in different clothes. Sometimes some lines get a bit blurred between Steve and Stevie and Steph.”

“I gots it Stevie, I gots it,” Bucky assured, pressing open mouthed kisses along the clothed line of Steve’s stomach. “Now, what’s you say we go blur some lines, never liked rules much anyways.”

“You’ll be the death of me Bucky Barnes,” Steve hissed and let his head fall back the same moment as Bucky’s knees hit the floor, the sticky rag lay forgotten on the tabletop.

“Right back atcha-” He murmured tugging on belt buckles, then on sintched trousers, pulling down underwear. “Steve,” A kiss to his navel, “Steph,” his hipbone, “ _Stevie_ ,” his everything else.


	7. Here Comes The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I ain’t going with you to the beach, Bucky, you know I don’t like those stupid swim pants-”
> 
> “Well these ain’t no pants, and Dot said that this style is perfect for women who lack upper-” Bucky coughed and couldn’t meet his eyes. “Assets?”
> 
> “You told who? _She said what?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles is not period correct and I regret nothing. I went swimming recently and felt it was only fair if these two dorks did too.

Bucky had asked Steve to come with him to the beach no less than ten times during the muggy spring and the scorching summer and at the hight of July, he realized why.

Steve always had a hate/hate relationship with his body, it never did what he asked and always seemed to fail him when he least wanted it to. Steph was a way out, that much Bucky could understand, a way to forget that Steve’s lionheart was not proportionate to his sickly frame but instead a way to find beauty. It was with that knowledge warm in his heart that he walked into Martin’s on a Friday, his pay burning a hole in his pocket. The impeccable mannequins followed him all the way to the register where an equally perky woman flashed a killer grin, _working on commissioned then_ , Bucky thought. 

“What can I help you with?” She added a giggle to the end and all at once, Bucky felt out of his depth for the first time since concocting this mad scheme. He was at a loss for words but his gaping mouth seemed to do the trick because the store woman stepped out from behind the counter. “Don’t worry honey, I’m here to help poor saps like you.”

“See, my gal…” He didn’t know exactly how to explain away Steve’s predicament and could feel a flush lit his cheeks. “She’s real sensitive about her body, see? So I was gonna get her a suit and take her to the beach, right? So, see the problem is I know she would never go for it, never splurge on herself, see?”

His mumbling seemed to work because the woman hummed and nodded a few times, bringing her hand up to rub her chin before she smiled bright and snapped her fingers like she was in a picture. She grabbed his hand and her curls bobbed as she scurred across the store to the nondescript door hidden off to the side and slipped inside leaving Bucky standinding there like a laymen. The woman popped her head out and waved him back, yanking on his tie down the hall into a room that looked suspiciously like the filing room at the SSR that was never touched, just added to. He was gaping again, he could feel it.

“So, the way I see it, your girl has some problems ‘cause she hasn’t had had my help,” The woman, whose nametag read Dot, said while brushing a few loose curls out of her face. “Tell me about her body shape and we’ll get her feeling great in no time!”

The woman rolled up her immaculately pressed sleeves and grinned wildly at him before diving in at Bucky’s laugh. Bucky exited the store spending more than he wanted but seeing as most of the money was left as a tip, Bucky considered it well spent.

As with most things in Bucky’s life, Steve found his missing evening suspicious and the bag hanging delicately from Bucky’s fingers even more so.

“What’s in the bag?” Steve questioned, his lips rosy from lipstick but the rest of his face bare. Bucky liked the feeling of all of his Steve’s blurring together and said so until Steve’s cheeks were the color of his painted mouth. The rosy tint faded from his cheeks the moment the swimsuit was pulled from the bag. “I ain’t going with you to the beach, Bucky, you know I don’t like those stupid swim pants-”

“Well these ain’t no pants, and Dot said that this style is perfect for women who lack upper-” Bucky coughed and couldn’t meet his eyes. “Assets?”

“You told who? _She said what?_ ” Steve demanded, refusing to look at the garment out of spite. Bucky just sputtered a few times before thrusting the suit at Steve a few times with various grunts and noises that only seemed to piss Steve off more. “What the hell Buck?”

“Just try it on, ok? If you hate it, I will take it back and we will lay around the apartment for the whole summer in our undershirts, I promise,” Bucky swore, the suit still dangling between them. Bucky was seconds away from waving it at Steve like a white flag when the man grabbed it from his fingers and marched, adorably but Bucky didn’t mention anything in fear of being hit, into their bedroom.

It was dark by the time that Steve exited sans suit and with a resolved look on his face. Bucky was just about to make an impulse decision, either drop to his knees and grovel or jump to his feet and fight Steve for the self-deprecating man he was, when the blond sighed and dropped his head in silent agreement. Bucky stood and raced to Steve who yelped when he was picked up and swung around a few times.

“You won’t regret this, baby,” A wet smooch to Steve’s cheek sent the man into giggles that he ended by pressing their lips together in soft forgiveness. In his joy, Bucky took to flinging Steve out into wide, exaggerated swing steps that ended with both of them bumping into every piece of furniture in room and collapsing breathlessly onto the lumpy couch, swapping sweet kissed. “I know it’ll be a blast, just you wait.”

Bucky was, for once, completely right. The day was hot but the long brimmed straw hat Bucky pawned off a street vender was good enough to keep the sun off Steve’s face, his tinted glasses helping too. The thick coat Steve slipped on over was a little warm and the scarf wrapped around his hair was snug but hid his adam’s apple well enough that he wasn’t looking over his shoulder every few seconds. The heat was worth it when Steve dropped the coat and watched Bucky blush bright at the lot of Steve’s skin out on display. For all of his concerns, the short skirt on the bikini hid everything well unlike Bucky’s shorts that showed the tanned length of his legs and the smooth planes of his chest under scant amounts of fabric. Bucky wrapped his corse palms behind Steve’s knees so that the shorter man had to scoot forward and eventually sit down right on Bucky’s lap.

Steve’s blush went as cherry red as his suit.


End file.
